Freedom and Majesty
by bookwormally
Summary: Blue Freedom, Green Majesty, and The Color of Harmony. A 3 part little tale about eyes, colors, the Blitz, and how it all connects to England and America. Present day and WWII era. USUK
1. Blue Freedom

So this came from me being all symbolic about colors and eyes and yeah. History felt like inserting itself and it became a bit more about the Blitz. Anyway enough babbling.

Hetalia doesnt belong to me. Enjoy the story!

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Everyone had heard his shouts of 'Freedom' as his eyes sparkled. His blue eyes as bright and endless as the skies he so loved. England had seen them in all their many forms, the sparkling innocence of youth, the dark grief of war, and weary with the weight of the world. Without fail America's eyes captured England's attention and drew him in. It was during yet another meeting as America was presenting that England found himself studying the eyes behind the silver frames and polished lenses and thinking of what was hidden beneath the surface.

The default response to the inane question, "What color?" would of course be blue. But what was blue? The color of the deep sea, the sky above, or the multitude of manmade shades? Boiled down to its purest form, blue was freedom. The freedom that sang in America's very bones, shone in his eyes, and had him always _always_ reaching for the sky. Was it any wonder that his was the country that invented flight? England would always prefer the sea and the rolling of the deck beneath his feet, while America soared through the sky.

To America there was nothing greater than the freedom of the skies. While other looked up and saw the ceiling of the world, America saw an opportunity. The darkness between the stars; a mystery just waiting for them to reach it.

Lately all the spark had been dulled. Their days were longer now, politics didn't end in time for dinner, and even glancing up at America now he looked tired. England was sure though that only a practiced eye could see past the cheerful mask. Since he had truly taken his place on the world stage hardly anyone had seen the true depth of America's emotions. Even England was often left guessing.

There had been a few times where it had been spelled out clearly like writing across the sky. There was the tug at the back of his mind of a memory not yet a century old.

The Blitz had made him prouder of his people and kept his own resolve as iron. Germany could bomb him all he liked, England would never give in. He would outlast the Axis and save his fellow Allied powers. _Right. Just as soon as you can actually stand. _The snarky thought made him sigh even as lay in wait for the bombs the air sirens promised. Canada stood outside to give him peace for which he was thankful. His pride would not allow others to see him struggle, even against forces outside his control.

Lying on the couch, his mind out in the city with his people, he wasn't aware of the commotion until he heard the voices in the hall. They were both familiar, but England brushed it off until there was a bang against the wall. Frowning slightly, was Canada alright? He was distracted as the aerial fight began. The RAF had engaged the German bombers and the fight for London continued.

With the pilots in the inky night sky England was only vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening and closing with a soft click. Then the first few bombers released their payload. Fire, hot and consuming, sprung up and he flinched. A breath and another wave descended on his beautiful capitol. Lives extinguished and everything he fought so hard for was burning down around him.

Returning to himself as the fight resumed in his skies, England became aware of a presence kneeling next to him muttering. Pushing himself up to get a better view, he couldn't believe his eyes. "A-America?" A shocked blond, bespectacled face shot up and he squinted in disbelief. Blinking he sighed. _Of course he's not here. _"My mistake again. My apologies Canada. You know you can wait outside."

A rough hand gripped his, seeking comfort or offering it, it was comfort all the same. "I know. I was just worried about you." His voice even sounded in his ears like America's would if the lad would ever stop shouting. Was he really that far gone? England gave the hand a squeeze as he met its owner's eyes. Worry and fear swirled darkening a summer sky to a storm tossed sea. _Canada's eyes are violet. He is not here._

"You know me, my boy. That kraut can hit me with his best, but he won't be rid of me that easily." The grip on his hand went almost painfully tight for a moment as the boy ducked his head. Before he could ask another wave exploded outside and his own hand clenched. England worked to keep his face smooth for his former colony's state of mind if nothing else. _Pride comes before the fall as they say. _

"Really Matthew you may wait outside. Actually I could use a spot of tea, if you could…" His former colony smiled softly at him and stood saying, "Of course England." Footsteps crossed across the carpet back to the door as England slid his eyes closed. There was the scrape of the door over the carpet and a pause. Green cracked open to see a tall form exiting the room. Blinking in surprise, on his back, had that been bright white numbers on leather? England fell into darkness, losing himself among his people in his skies and his burning streets.

The next morning brought clarity and increased fire to England's will. The site of his city in the harsh light of day made his hands shake in barely controlled rage. Germany would pay. "England a new supply ship has just docked. They need you down there." The fading empire turned to find Canada standing behind him, a small smile on his face.

England sighed. "Can they truly not handle it without me?" The blond laughed slightly. "Well I suppose they brought a bit more than general supplies with them. The ship came from America and apparently had a stow-away…" Canada hid a grin as England blinked once. "Oh, well then. I best deal with it. Bloody incompetent the lot, Americans." "Of course England."

The wash of the waves against the land was a balm to his frayed nerves. Nothing could ever be truly frustrating as long as he was on or near the water. As if to prove him wrong, a ringing guffaw broke out. Chatting with his men as they worked was the United States of America in all his glory. Catching sight of England, he waved with a bright grin. Trotting over America clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey British dude! How ya been?"

Blue skies sparkled behind his lenses uneclipsed by storms of worry or fear. _Good to know I was being completely delusional last night. To have him see me in such a state…_

It had been years before America admitted to having actually been in London that night. A moment of insecurity, a fight, and then back again. "Of course I love you England. You're amazing and smart and strong. I mean during the Blitz, you never let it stop you and still worried about others before yourself…"

America had snapped his mouth shut as England raised an eyebrow. "Others before myself… Do you mean Matthew or-" England gaped. "It was really you that night! I thought, but then the next morning… Why?" Pulling him close, so they could each hear the thump-thump of the lifeblood of the other, America smiled. "Isn't it obvious? I was worried about you."

The years flew past, a blur of history, to bring England back to the same place, debating and quarreling with the same old group. And yet… A sweep of his gaze across the room and he took in his fellow Nations. And yet here we all sit trying to improve our world. For all our problems we would work together if one of us needed help. Continuing their circle of the table, green once again focused on shining blue.

Tired and overworked, yes, but eclipsed, hopeless, and lost, never. Blue was freedom for the small, the weak, the lost. It was freedom from the everyday, the mundane, a small escape from the stress of life. The American Dream still existed to lift others up, to instill hope, and encourage to work for a better tomorrow.

A small smile worked its way onto England's face and he met America's eyes as the superpower took his seat. "What're you smiling about? My heroic speech cheer you up?" England scoffed as they intertwined their fingers beneath the table. "Hardly. I was just thinking… about the color of freedom."

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This is England's half. Next chapter is America's side. Look for that and drop me a review of your thoughts!


	2. Green Majesty

And here's America's part cause it's already done and I'll forget to post it otherwise!

Enjoy!

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America was very familiar with England's varied moods and expressions, stern to snarky, upset to condescending, and rarer now a true smile. But while messing with England and seeing him get flustered was always fun, seeing his eyes spark was the best. A brilliant green that gave away so much more than the Brit himself would ever admit. They always did say eyes were the windows to the soul.

The first time he saw England's eyes America was struck by how green they were. He had still been a kid used to running wild through his lands. He saw green every day, but this was different. England's eyes were life. The color of new growth and ancient strength, they were like his forests majestic, aged, and yet everlasting. Even with the raining pouring down, the cold like ice in their veins, and uniforms so stiff with mud it seemed they would never be clean again, England's eyes gleamed cold, clear, and hard, twin emeralds in his face.

But nothing, _nothing_ compared to the heart stopping fear the Blitz brought. Trapped an ocean away, only hearing things through reports, America did what he did best when it became too much to sit and wait, ignored everyone else and set out to accomplish his goals. He used Mattie's air force to sneak over and the moment the plane hit the tarmac on English soil, he was gone. The sun was hiding itself behind the distant hills as he reached headquarters. He could feel Matthew inside so without further ado wrenched the doors open.

America was vaguely aware of people shouting around him as he forged ahead. A few hands landed on his shoulders but with a casual roll he was released. The only thing to break his concentration was the wail of the air sirens as they split the night. The color drained from his face and he tore up the stairs where he could sense his brother. Indeed there he was standing, guarding, the door arms crossed and a disapproving frown gracing his features. "America," was the hard greeting. He was in trouble for sure if Canada was using his Nation name. "You shouldn't, can't be here."

"Mattie please! I have to see him." The continued scream of the air sirens made America flinch. It would hurt but they wouldn't die even as the city burned around them. England on the other hand… Desperate he grabbed Canada a bit roughly, strength flowing through his arms out of his control. His brother winced and he wanted to apologize but he swore he could hear the planes coming closer.

"Please! I don't know what I'll do if, if he… please let me see him." The grip America had on his arms spoke the volumes his mouth couldn't. "Fine, but be quiet. He was asleep. Oh and Al?" America turned one hand on the door handle. "It's good to see you." A soft smile was the reply and the door clicked shut as Canada retook his place in front of the door rubbing his arms slightly.

The room itself was quiet even with the noise from outside. It made England's harsh breathing sound all the worse. He lay across a couch pushed up against the wall out of sight of the windows with an arm thrown over his eyes. America began to cross the room and had almost reached him when the first bombs of the night fell. They were across the city, but the fire was clearly visible through the window along with England's flinch. Kneeling next to the couch America extended a slightly shaking hand. "England," the name was just a sigh between them before the sky lit again and the floor rocked slightly beneath his feet.

Turning on his side, England's face was clenched as he gripped the rough fabric of his uniform above his heart. "I'm so sorry." The words began to tumble from his lips without thought. "I should already be here, not just delivering supplies… Please just open your eyes…" Another wave, another flinch this time accompanied by a groan. Ducking his head and calling on his religious roots America clasped his hands together and muttered under his breath. "A-America?" His neck cracked as his head shot up.

Peering at him through barely cracked lids and pushing himself up on one arm, England seemed confused by the sight of him. He blinked and then sighed. "My mistake again. My apologies Canada. You know you can wait outside." Well. Apparently England thought he was Canada for once. Keeping his voice low to approximate his brother's he took one of the Briton's hands. "I know. I was just worried about you." England gave his hand a light squeeze. "You know me, my boy. That kraut can hit me with his best, but he won't be rid of me that easy."

Holding tight for a moment America looked to the ground and breathed a "thank you." Another wave fell outside and England's hand clenched even as he schooled his features to show nothing to his former colony. "Really Matthew you may wait outside. Actually I could use a spot of tea, if you could…" America smiled softly. "Of course England." Standing and crossing to the door glanced once more over his shoulder. England's eyes appeared to be closed again, but he had seen them. Life still glowed like embers in emerald depths.

Now decades later, England's eyes glowed at him from across the room. Set under his brows, furrowed now in focus on the presenter, America found him just as fascinating as he did hundreds of years ago when they met.

Fascinatingly deep, a myriad of shades and layers that came together to form the color that so ensnared him. Moss, emerald, vegetables, wealth, green was an innumerable amount of things. Though when studying England's eyes, America was always reminded of one thing, the great majestic forests. With towering trees that stood the test of time, the sounds of life rustling about, and the hints of magic and mystery sparkling between the trees, it was truly the embodiment of England. And it was there that he seemed truly at home.

Their work may require endless paperwork and meetings, but every Nation had their escapes. England's was his garden, but if he had the time he would head for a sunlit clearing hidden in the trees. America still called to mind golden afternoons tucked away from the world when he was feeling stressed and needed a moment to breathe. Even the mental image of majestic green focused softly on him was relaxing. And time to relax was found few and far between now days.

Their lives as Nations were a dance, a play of politics and relationships. While Alfred may have feelings and opinions of his own, America had a part to perform. And now was the time to slip on the mask as he took the head of the meeting Even as the dance continued, Alfred allowed the cool peace of majestic green to flood his mind and a smile big, bright, and containing true happiness took over his face.

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Now all that remains is the conclusion to pull everything together. It will be full of USUK sap and more fun with symbolism! Drop me a review if you have the time.


	3. The Color of Harmony

Color, it is everywhere around us. Each shade connected to a different memory, a different feeling. Red, anger, violence, passion; Blue, sadness, calm, patience; Yellow, joy, sunshine, friendship; Green, jealousy, sickness, life; Purple, pride, royalty, luxury. And then there are the personal meanings unique to each individual.

Shaped by their experiences, beliefs, and knowledge people who looked the exact same could see the world very differently. Now imagine a century, two, three living for a millennia and still continuing on. That is what it means to be a Nation as long as the people endure so shall the personification.

Having seen the world in a million different ways, going along learning new things, changing as their people did. Nations did not have an average viewpoint on things. Yet for all their history, their power, they were as human as any of their people.

Subject to political plays and alliances of convenience, Nations themselves had friendships with one another outside of the global stage. Even more so with deeper relationships. They had decades if not centuries to lay a foundation of trust and companionship.

Sadly all too often personal feelings must divide from what if best for a country. It takes a true bond, a true pair to overcome such difficulties. Whenever discussing such things many Nations would smile and wave it off. Some things were secrets they kept to themselves after all.

As for an example, most Nations pointed to America and England and joked about no one having a history quite like theirs. The Nations in question had their ups and downs, but always came back together like gravity.

To many other Nations who had seen through their dance around one another to their current relationship it was an almost constant source of amusement. 'Yet at certain moments the dedication to one another could take one's breath away,' France mused to himself resting his head on one hand.

It had been a rough week for everyone made worse by a cold circulating through their ranks. Due to a bit of luck France had avoided being struck down, but his neighbor across the Channel hadn't been quite as blessed.

England had been absent yesterday from the meeting and America had obviously only come on his orders. The boy had been unusually quiet, continually checking his phone, and had vanished the moment lunch had been called.

Today however England walked into the conference room back straight and head held high despite the slight pallor to his skin. Well it was only common courtesy to go greet his long time neighbor, often enemy, and sometime ally and friend. Especially before America snapped him up again.

Sliding into place next to the Englishman, France slipped an arm around his shoulder. "Ah Angleterre welcome back. I missed the sound of your dulcet tones." Those oh so original eyebrows snapped together. "Oh France, lovely. You're exactly who I hoped to see first thing this morning." England crossed his arms but didn't shrug off his arm.

"Oh hon hon hon, if that's the case you only had to ask and I would be glad to take Amerique's place in your bed~" Rage added color to England's face as he began to sputter. Before he could really get to shouting, he broke off with a cough.

Frowning slightly in concern, France moved a hand to pat him on the back. "Are you truly alright Angleterre? Surely one of your brothers could have come in your place?" England glared at him, but was saved from responding by a cup of tea dropped into his line of vision.

America stood behind him rolling his eyes. "Yeah right France. Apparently they're all 'incompetent louts.'" The last part was spoken in an accent exactly like the Briton's own. England just glared at his partner as he took the tea.

France hid a smile as he watched. Almost since he had met the wild haired blond centuries ago, he had watched over England, often without his neighbor's approval. Their relationship, like most between Nations, defied description and morphed throughout the ages.

It was good to see America take his place in some ways, bitter in others. At least he knew Alfred took the "caretaker" bit seriously. He watched England like a hawk, a slight crease to his brow to make sure the tea was gone before he took the cup again and walked back out.

"You certainly trained him well Angleterre. What was it? The whips~?" Now his arm was shrugged off as England socked him in the stomach. "The only reason I won't beat you bloody is I have neither the energy nor the time. Get to your seat Frog, the meeting is starting." With a scowl on his face, but more color in his cheeks England stalked away and France felt accomplished if not a bit bruised for his efforts.

Settling again in his spot France watched the others file in and waited to see who would start the fireworks today. There were so many possibilities with frayed tempers, illness, and protectiveness flares. As a bonus America was chairing the meeting which generally meant disorganization, long nonsensical tangents, and even less than usual being done.

But at ten on the dot America, who had returned with a fresh cup for England stood and took his place at the head of the room. "If everyone could take their seats I'd like to get the meeting under way." A slight shuffling and then he continued. "I know it's been a long week so let's try to be efficient and get done early today."

And so they were off. America however refused to let things slip too far into their normal chaos, an attitude he normally only took in times of war. Finding the meeting dull France entertained himself by attempting to make his neighbors squeak and generally observing the various Nations and their relationships.

The only interesting moment between England and America was half way through. England had been focused on the proceedings for most of the meeting, but for his cough and a few sneezes. These were always followed by a sip from his tea cup. Which, since it was not actually bottomless like many believed, emptied quickly. England set the cup down with a soft sigh.

America, who was up presenting and pacing, without pause in his speech and as natural as can be walked down the table and handed England a thermos. Then he turned and returned to the front of the room. England stared at the thermos before unscrewing the op and taking a sip. By this point France could not contain his grin. Seeing this gentle, subtle way of affection reminded him of sunshine days as a family with two gold twins and his own doting partner…

Lost in memory the rest of the meeting passed in a blur for France. "And so I think we're finished for today. Thank you for coming and I'll see you all again next time." With a tap-tap of his papers on the table America closed the meeting.

Shaking off his lethargy France rolled his shoulders and began to gather his things. Most Nations left quickly, happy to be freed early and relax at home. America was chatting with Canada as he packed up and it was comfortably familiar to walk over and join them.

It was friendly chatter, that of those who know and have been friends for centuries. The atmosphere was relaxed until America muttered, "Aw damn." Turning to face him the exclamation was obviously for his now bloody nose. Without turning from stacking his papers and packing his bag, England handed him a handkerchief with the instruction of "head back, pressure."

Easy, gentle, half unspoken, the true form of language, of love. Words were tricky things, meanings were tangled, lost between head and heart and true relationships didn't always need things said aloud. _It is nice to see even such a tumultuous pairing as they appear on outside, share something within that compliments one another._

Continuing to observe as Canada hovered a bit over his brother, France's thoughts twisted to the artistic. _Color… I remember Angleterre saying something to Amerique about it last time. Something about color and… freedom? He gets as poetic as the Bard when he wishes…_

Truly if one considered them as colors on the wheel, blue and green, they were hardly complimentary. Green was complimented by red, yellow by violet, and blue by orange. Yet compliments meant neutralizing one another. England and America were analogous with one another. They were so close and matched so well. They were harmonious.

France blinked and smiled. That was it. The perfect definition of America and England that had been escaping him all day. _Harmonious…_ rolling the word around in his mind, France glanced again at the couple in question. _They accentuate each other, good and bad. Some might say they are too alike, but…_

"We might as well go France. They're completely ignoring us and off in their own little world." Canada stood beside him rolling his eyes. France mumbled, "I wonder…" "Wonder what?" France turned and met violet eyes as he answered. "I wonder… what you would deem the color of harmony." Canada's gaze slid to the now bickering Atlantic pair before he answered.

"Yellow," he stated and France gave a tinkling laugh. "So contrary Mathieu~" "Yes well they're-" The door swung shut and the voices faded.

"Finally, I thought they'd never leave." America laughed as he cleaned up his nose. "Really Artie, that desperate to be alone with me?" England patted his head. "Oh yes Alfred I can hardly contain myself. Prat." The harsh word was softened by the hand carding through his hair.

"All cleared up?" America swiped at his nose again and nodded. "Must have been a quick dip in the market. Glad it didn't happen in the meeting." England coughed as he nodded and America quickly swiped his things together.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand. You need more rest since you were so determined to come today." Before England could do more than huff, America kissed his cheek and wrapped their hands together. "I think I could use a nap before dinner as well." England gave a small smile as they headed out. "Well how can I say no to such an exquisite plan for the evening?"

Outside the sun still rode above the horizon as a breeze stirred the air. Both Nations treasured their time together knowing they would have to separate again all too soon as their existence demanded.

But while they may be an ocean apart, as the forests reached for the sky so the wind came down to brush their branches.

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And that's it for this little set. I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't too boring for anyone! Let me know your thoughts and if you have time check out some of my other works. Until next time!


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